Objects

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In the camp that day fifty of them
There is in you small fault
Such advice as I have
Continue, children, with the arguments

Essentially there is a rapidly
Go-getters tonight feel strong to risk
What, that doesn’t add up?
In the grave tibias, a skullfragment used as a hat

Silence of the desert is holding
Their man, sure he would not run out, wasted time
For snow hurried, livid having waited
The river ran grey

A coalfaced
How was it feasible to dispose
In muted, muted light
There is a phase of love, when

The tinnitus of spine
Or stop what you are doing
Come, live with us, we can feed and clothe
On top form, even the academies bored

It is so easy to stumble upon
Very much to ask
By science truth’s contingent
Though at a slow rate, most

And flickering, a green flame
Over the bridge a taskforce
We do not know the grief of
I am only here

—J.F.